


In the Shadow of Fen'Harel

by Aicosu



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:50:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3268892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aicosu/pseuds/Aicosu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas finds Lavellan sitting on a Fen'Harel statue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Shadow of Fen'Harel

He found her sitting, of all places, on Fen’Harel’s statue.   
  
They had been camped awaiting word from Inquisition forces on reclaiming Watcher’s Reach, but the Emerald Dales was vast and lush— and they would be waiting for some time for the soldiers to catch up with them. 

She had slipped away, claiming she wanted to look around. 

He had noticed her enraptured looks with the forest about them and when he inquired, she had said it looked a bit like home in the Free Marches. So when she had left, he had let her go alone, to spend her nostalgia and homesickness in private. 

But lately it was hard to keep himself away from her.

His time was measured again, the concept foreign and frightening to him. Each moment passed was one he marked, and so he sought her out. 

"I suspect when they say to keep within Dread Wolf’s shadow, they do not mean that close."

Her head snapped up from her languid sightseeing, and instantly her eyes softened. That smile that made his chest ache did it’s job well every time. 

She looked up at the statue from him mentioning it, but seemed unaffected. “I mean him no harm.”

_'Oh but how very, very wrong you are vhenan. You mean me the worst, most excruciating harm imaginable.'_

"I wouldn’t sit here if I didn’t think it alright." She murmured, looking back to the view of the forest and it’s quiet sounds.

It was still day, the sun glittered through the leaves like mosaic windows. It dotted the ground and her legs like paint, while her face rested unmarred by sunlight from the shadow of the wolf.

"Not superstitious?" He questioned, stepping closer to her, and leaning over her, his hand resting on the cold statue’s paw.

She hummed quietly, leaning back and lifting a knee up. She looked relaxed there against the wolf’s carved chest, indifferent. Her eyes glossed over his in thoughtfulness. “Maybe a little, but not for this.”

"No? Not worried for Fen’Harel’s teeth nipping at your soul for your… vandalism?" He teased. 

"I’m not writing obscenities on his nose!" She chuckled. "I’m just sitting!"

"Oh, da’len, how you slander your gods." He drawled, chiding with a shake  of his head, sarcasm dripping from his tone. 

"Oh, like you’re one to speak. If anyone is going to offend the Creators, it’s you." She challenged and he loved the competitive gleam in her eyes. "You being anywhere near the statue is a bad omen— I’m safe."

He willed his smile not to falter. Her words held darker tones that whispered regret into his ears. But he didn’t think of it, he couldn’t. Not now, later. Not when he already had so little time. 

So instead his grin grew wider to show his teeth, his head dipped low to get even with hers. “Oh?”

She breathed inward, taking away some of his soft exhale. Her brow perked with confidence even as her face colored with evidence of her nerves. 

"I imagine it takes a little more than sitting on statues to catch the Dread Wolf’s attention."

Hot, rampant heat slithered through his skin. His hand placed itself on the stone’s carved fur above her head to keep himself steady. His other hand came forward quickly, fingers delving into her hair and the side of her neck. He couldn’t not touch her after those words. 

"How scandalous you are for a Dalish…" He whispered through lazy lidded eyes and a heavy voice. 

Her face reddened in the shade and she dipped her head low. There it was, her timid embarrassment held for only when he teased her just right. He loved it, loved to see that he could make her react that way— he, him. 

But then her eyes snapped back up to his, and her fingers rose to draw lines into his arms up to his hands, successfully lifting her body into an arch beneath him. 

"And your quite cautious for an apostate."

He looked at her with an unbelieving smile and a shake of his head. Would she ever stop surprising him? She was a Dalish First, prostrating herself on a homage to Fen’Harel, void of superstition and full of love for him. 

His fingers curled in the marble. Oh— his restraint was not with him today. Not when he found her like this, here, of all places. 

On him, in him, rebellious and honest.

He moved closer, the space between them heavy with their proximity and breathing. His nose bumped hers and her next inhale was shaky when his lips graced hers ever so softly.   
  
He spoke against her, memorizing every time her lips grazed past his. “Is that a challenge to your hahren, da’len?” 

Her fingers squeezed his forearms and he didn’t miss the way her bare feet curled and slid against the stone where she sat. Restless. 

He tilted his head and dragged his lips across her cheek, a wetness sliding from her mouth with him until his hot cheek was flush with hers and his lips were at her ear. 

"Are you trying to invoke the wrath of Fen’Harel?" He asked and the double meaning slipped past her notice, because why wouldn’t it? And even if she would never know, saying it out loud was making him shake. Riling him.

His mind was whispering to stop, to put the fire away and not risk burning everything. 

But then her fingers trailed up to his neck, and a nail scraped his jaw as she pulled his face back to her lips. 

His eyes looked into hers this close, their excitement matching his.

"Fuck Fen’Harel."

His lips met hers fast. 

His hands gripped the stone, his body as rigid as the wolf she sat on even as his lips grew pliant and heady. He closed his eyes, trying to keep himself from ripping at her clothes, ripping at her skin— ripping her apart. 

But she was flames beneath him, her hands curved up the back of his skull as her body arched outward, pressing her chest to his. She was shaking, her mouth a mess of closing and opening, trying to catch his lips in her teeth. 

He angled downward to get a better sweep of his tongue on her teeth and when she pulled for a gasp—

"S-Solas."

And then his hands were torn from the stone. She had called for him and he would answer. His fingers went to her hair because he loved it so. They pulled her head backward so he could kiss her jaw, her chin, her neck. Each time he made sure to keep his mouth open so his tongue could dart out and taste her. 

He drew muffled sound from her lips that held no words but said,  _'please,' 'solas,' 'more.'_

"Vhenan." He whispered, dragging the word with his teeth down her collarbone, his fingers found the latches of her tunic and they fumbled like he was young— like his was nothing but a boy eager for something much more than him.

Her thighs made room for his knee and her fingers curled on his head, thumb brushing low to flick his ear. 

He bit down on her neck. 

Her tunic came loose and he exposed one of her shoulders to the forest air, his mouth eagerly seeking to have it on his tongue. Her other hand had found purchase near his ribs holding him fast as his thigh bumped harshly in the center of her hips. 

She gasped, and he lifted up to watch her eyes flicker open and closed, pelvis rocking, dragging herself on his thigh in a slow, torturous abandon. And then the were both falling backward on the wolf, her quiet sensuality breaking to laugh a little. 

He loved the sound. 

His hands went to her breeches, pulling, fingers darting as fast as the thrumming heart in his chest.   
  
She seemed to sober. “Solas!” She exclaimed in a whisper, her hand stretching above her to grasp the statue. “Here?”

"Yes." He hissed, his teeth nipping at the curve of her breast still hidden by layers of fabric.

His fingers dipped past the wall of her pants, long digits tracing the warmth hidden against his thigh. “Here. Right here.”

"Ah!" She jerked on him when he found her. Hot, wet— he closed his eyes, another hand helping to yank at the fabric to push his whole hand down against her, letting her rock heavily on his knuckles. 

If she had any objections, her body and hands did not listen. She rode him against Fen’Harel as she clumsily pulled the belts at his waist. 

Both of them eager and heated they ripped at the layers most immediately against them. His hands retreated from her sex so he could curl his arms under her spine and lift her up, just as her fingers slipped past his own defenses to grasp him full-

His body stilled, muscles tensing as the fleshy pads of her fingertips teased and seduced his skin. 

His jaw creaked from the tightness of his teeth and he could vaguely feel the nips of kisses on his jaw.   
  
” _Mesedas vhenan._.. ” She whispered, pulling the length of him towards her. 

He melted, his exhale a noisy one, hot and broken through his lips. 

When he crashed his body against hers she met him, the excruciating heat of her threatening and teasing the tip of him as she circled his length around her, trying desperately to align him just right. His impatience had him bucking against her and he wasn’t even inside her yet. 

She moaned when he hit her oddly, and she rode him messily, the inside of her thigh no doubt wet from his clumsy need. 

"Fenehdis—" He cursed and pressed her hot body against the stone. He dropped his own hand down to bring himself right against her. 

A thrust and—

"Solas!"

His head dropped down to the crook of his neck and he breathed in harshly, eyes closed, lips open and sloppy on her skin. Her fingers tore at his tunic on his back and her legs curled on his waist.   
  
He shivered.

’ _Slow, slow, slow._ ' He begged himself. ' _Be slow— feel it, memorize it_.’

But the utter warmth of her, the realness of her. Not vague promises of sensations in the Fade but  _real_ hot want _._  Solid— here in the daylight out in the air, exposed— it was all to much. Too much and too little time.

So he fucked her instead. 

He let himself rock against her harshly, both of them adding to the birdsong and rustling leaves of the forest with their hushed heavy breathing and the clinking of clothes. His necklace smacked continuously against her chest as it tried to keep up with their rhythm.

One of his hands shoved itself back into Fen’Harel’s chest, held them both steady while the other cradled her head as she nuzzled his palm. His fingers wiped across her mouth and she snapped at them, sucked them. 

He couldn’t not watch her but he couldn’t not keep his eyes closed— it was a battle, a climb, an utterly dangerous and wicked temptation to throw away his reservations.

Oh, but they were already gone.

They fucked there in the open, clothes desperately trying to stay on— primal and rebellious spirits that for once thought of nothing but themselves. 

He indulged the selfishness as he indulged her hot sex with his own. 

"Solas—"

No. Oh no— the sound of his name on her lips once more and then there he was. His body jerked, the heat coiled in his muscles snapping, overloading— He grunted, tried to stop it, but she was curling around him, saying his name again and again like torture, like a prayer. 

And he would answer. 

He would yell, he could feel it, so instead his lips sought out her mewling ones, claimed them once more and moaned sounds of worship into her mouth. Her tongue claimed him. His defeat, his pleasure, his pain, and his greed. 

The heat released from him in a wicked lashing of pleasure through his muscles. 

She rode the waves of him for herself, and he let her, held her steady as she followed him. Her own calls of pleasure open to the wind. 

She was so beautiful, a perfect soul, right there in his arms, releasing slick pleasure onto him and calling out his name.  
  
Absolutely exquisite. 

And when she settled, his own lips stole away the release, the affection, and the love there that was her hot and tired panting. 

With their sex simmering, the softness overcame them, and they spent a quiet moment in the shade of the statue tracing skin with fingers and placing light kisses in secret places. Her sweetness burned in his heart, light smiles and that embarrassed stain of red on her cheeks even at she looked at him with devilish satisfaction. 

She was already his proven undoing. 

Solas dressed her as she did him, but it was awhile before they stopped sharing wet whispers and kisses, even fully dressed and righted again. When they made to finally leave the place and return to their duties and their companions, she leaned forward on the stone, shaded by the wolf’s silhouette. 

"Do you think I did it then?"

He raised his head in curiosity.

"Do you think I caught the Dread Wolf’s scent?"

His eyes lowered with the after effects of sexual gratification and utter adoration. His smile was unrightfully amused.

"Vhenan, you caught so much more than that."   
  


**Author's Note:**

> "Mesedas" is Elvish for "Please"
> 
> I made it up, it doesn’t exist. Can you believe there isn’t a canonical word for please? What crap.


End file.
